


Lizard Brain

by Hikou



Series: Spiral [7]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Basically Crack-Fic, F/M, Language, shameless self-insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 20:58:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10749696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hikou/pseuds/Hikou
Summary: In which everyone attends the company picnic and attempts to seduce Rufus.





	Lizard Brain

**Author's Note:**

> Not at all what I set out to make, but goddamnit am I tired. 
> 
> And I can't pick a tense to save my life.

I feel like a vampire.

I’m not used to being out in the sun. The majority of my business takes place in the evening, under the cover of darkness and the protection of a rather business-like suit.

Instinctively, I pull inward a little, flinching downward and seeking refuge under the ridiculously large sunhat I’ve adorned. Somehow, it proves inadequate, and eventually I’m forced to square my bare shoulders.

I hope I don’t _look_ like a vampire, I think abruptly. The thought startles me and leaves a strange distaste lingering in my mouth. I’m disused to having to worry about such things.

I used to once. I’m sure I did.

But I don’t right now.

People are milling about the sandy beach of Costa del Sol in distracted, drunken throngs, swaying in pace with an extremely overpaid (and extremely undressed) live singer who was prancing around a shoddily built stage further down the coast. What seemed to be a limitless bar was set up against the wall that carved the beach from the touristy little town. Next to it sat a matching table with strangely expensive looking picnic food. A large red banner stretches between the two tables announcing the “First Annual Shinra Electric Power Company Picnic.”

I snort in contempt.

It was cruel and unusual punishment was what it was.

Security was obviously still needed for the event and so we had all been called in for a familiar mix of invitation and order. Show up, make sure no one shows up to kill and/or maim Rufus—including drunk-Rufus, and most importantly dress like “people, for fuck’s sake.”

He was very particular about this little show of his. I had a feeling it had something to do with the new bimbo sniffing around his office.

I didn’t like this new girlfriend of his. She was the sort of idiot that catered on silver platters in the middle of the _sand_. Or wanted her bodyguards to not carry weapons because if they were in the background of the photos they would all look _gauche._

And she said shit like _gauche._

Her name was supposedly Lynette, but even that had sounded made up and trendy.

I had spitefully made myself up in an obnoxious display of femininity, some new strange order from my lizard brain to out-sex this new passing fancy of _my boss_.

Discontinue the genetics and that; made sense.

Lizard brain.

So I had shown up all frills and lace and padding. I sheared my shortest pair of jeans to a v-shape almost good enough for a swimsuit in order to compete. I spent an hour and a half trying to hide my handgun under the too-tight getup (in case I needed to shoot her in the head or face region) before deciding it was more important to not cover my hard work with an extra shirt or shawl.

And the hat. My God, the hat. I could’ve all but gotten on the stage and screamed, _Hey, everyone, look at me_.

But at least it helped hide my shame now. I was feeling ridiculous and out of place. I hadn’t been able to find any familiar faces in the crowd, though I knew the entire department had been ordered invited to attend.

A flash of light caught my eyes and I turned back to the tables. A young woman stood between the two tables, flipping her head from side to side in indecision. An iridescent pair of boots had caught my eye, reflecting in the sunlight, but she still seemed to fit in better.

Her clothes were simple but looked inherently _expensive_. The shorts were a respectable length and made in a soft looking fabric. Her shirt was boat-necked and a bleached shade of lavender, but I knew the price-tag had probably listed in the hundreds.

And why not spend $100 on a t-shirt when _El Presidente_ could dump thousands of dollars into the water of Costa del Sol?

It was sound logic, I agreed mentally, and began to approach Cherri—Cherri of the Shinras, Lynette would introduce to anyone who would listen, as if she had grounds to introduce someone.

“Hikou!” she exclaimed, covering her mouth quickly in surprise or maybe horror. She seemed a little put-off by being caught here as well. “You look…” she started, circling a hand in front of her to conjure the missing word out of the air.

“Slutty,” I supplied.

“Mmm,” she neither agreed nor denied, pulling her mouth taut.

“Lizard brain,” I explained.

And she nodded like it made sense for some reason. “If she touches me one more time, I’m going to snap her in two.” It was more of a fact than anything else.

Lynette had been circling for the majority of the day like a vulture, plucking, and prodding, and smoothing the younger Shinra. Probably in an effort to sneak into a photo. I didn’t know this, but I nodded anyway.

A low whistle sounded to our left.

Cherri shaded her eyes as she turned her head into the sun, trying to find the source; the hat, again, was actually pretty useful.

It was a couch.

It was an ugly, plaid couch that belonged in someone’s grandmother’s house.

“Oh, Goddamnit,” the couch huffed in Reno’s voice. “Every single time it’s one of _you people_.”

I frowned at his harsh tone and at just… him. In general. But obviously he had catcalled another Turk. Which, I had no idea.

“Why are you wearing someone’s curtains?” Cherri was asking, nose wrinkled in distaste.

“Hey,” the redhead barked, brushing the lapels of the awful linen coat as he swaggered forward, “this cost a lot of money.”

“Why?” she asked again. “We’ve got old curtains. I would’ve _given_ them to you.”

I smothered a snicker. It _was_ terrible. The thing was pastel yellow, patterned with black and grey lines and his legs seemed smaller than they should have been, sticking out from the shorts, but his face was broader and weirdly handsome with his red hair hanging loosely about.

It was… different.

I checked for all the noticeable bulges, but couldn’t readily identify a handgun.   

“Cherri!” a woman was calling, waving after the redhead. “I could only find this one,” she paused to gesticulate wildly at the Reno-couch. “If they ditched and didn’t tell me, I’m going to—Hikou,” she ended abruptly, slamming to a halt as if she had just hit an invisible wall, face freezing in puzzlement.

I stood opposite and mirrored the expression for a moment. She had been practical enough to lace up the usual combat boots this morning, but had favored a flared sundress instead of her navy blue blazer. Her shoulders seemed smaller and her stature was less intimidating without the sharp cut of the suit coat, and I wondered idly if mine seemed the same way.

“Lizard brain,” I supplied again and Snow also nodded.

“Him too,” she jerked a thumb towards Reno, who was eyeing the bar dangerously. “You’re on notice,” she barked at him and he and I shared a disappointed glance. “Where’s everyone else?” she barreled onward, hands smoothing over her skirt, plainly uncomfortable.

“Tseng and Elena are with his highness,” Cherri pointed towards the stage where a vaguely familiar couple in Hawaiian print trailed only a _little_ awkwardly after Rufus. The she-demon was oddly absent. “They’re afraid to let him out of arm’s length because they didn’t bring their guns,” she laughed aloud. “Can you believe that?”

Our blank faces said it all.

“Seriously? None of you?!”

Everyone tactfully made eye contact with everyone but Cherri.

“What about Mikari and Rude?” Snow deftly changed the subject.

We both shook our heads, but the call of, “Present!” rang out loudly from behind a table.

The four of us exchanged confused glances before stepping towards the table. Mikari sat on the opposite side, trying to salvage what shade she could. She was barefoot, brightly painted toes poking out of the sand she’d buried around them. The jeans she’d chosen were too hot and the t-shirt she’d grabbed seemed dark against the bright background.

“It’s dying,” she complained, showing us the PHS cradled in her outstretched hands like a baby bird. “The stupid sun is so bright I can’t turn the screen down, and then the screen drains the battery, and I already ran through two back ups, and—“ she stopped to glance at Reno and couldn’t decide quite how to continue.

She looked unhappy, kind of like an animal in a cage, and I wanted to set her free back into her natural habitat of the cool Shinra server rooms.

“Did you bring a gun?” Snow interrupted.

Mikari squinted up as if she’d never seen her teammate. “What? No. I brought two battery back-ups. Where would I have room for a gun?” The girl was clearly agitated. “This is the dumbest. Seriously,” she sputtered for a thought. “This woman is. And the sun. I just—“ the thoughts trailed off into a wordless grumble as the PHS made one last, pleading _beep_.

“So then where’s Rude?” Reno asked, unfazed or at least used to Mikari’s outburst.

“Oh my God,” Cherri whisper-screamed, pointing towards the water.

Snow’s hand shot to her mouth as her eyes turned in the direction of the waves. Reno’s mouth promptly clicked closed. Mikari emitted a soft, “Oh,” as she peeked her head around the crimson tablecloth.

Rude, it appeared, was behind us the whole time. For once, his sunglasses had finally been successful and he blended in completely to the crowd of revelers. He was standing to his hips in the water, blue swim trunks billowing in time with the waves. His hands were folded casually behind his head in a pose that looked like a photoshoot. There was no suitcoat and no button-up to obscure his heavily muscled chest and his biceps bulged in the flexing position he had just _naturally_ assumed.

 _Bullshit,_ Lizard Brain said.

I tended to agree.

He lifted one hand from behind his head into the air in a half-assed greeting, realizing we were staring now that Cherri had been pointing for a solid minute and Snow had pushed both hands over her mouth.

A woman was standing in front of him, two hands pressed against his bare chest. She flipped her long, immaculately curled hair over her shoulder in a great swish and batted bright blue eyes at me.

 _Fucking contacts,_ Lizard Brain said.

“Well, there’s no way he has a gun,” the couch voiced somewhere behind me.  

“Hikou,” Snow blurted in a tone halfway between telling a dog to sit and calling for a lost toddler in the mall. She threw an arm out haphazardly in front of me, but made no effort to grab on.

I was stepping forward, I hadn’t realized.

“Oh, _please_ , _Hikou,_ ” Mikari whined facelessly behind the tablecloth. “Please just kill her. _Please._ And we can go home.”

“$100 she knocks her out in one punch,” Cherri proposed.

“$200 she drowns her,” Reno challenged.

“You’re on,” the deal was struck.

There was a pounding.

It was my feet, I noticed, surprised.

The sunhat flew from my head as I launched myself forward into the water.

Hikou lied, “Take cover! She has a gun!”

Lizard Brain screamed, _Bitch, step off my man!_

**Author's Note:**

> For the lulz.


End file.
